Rippling Pool
by ThreeBooksInTheFire
Summary: If you pretend long enough, and hide long enough, it becomes so natural that sometimes you forget that you ever had to pretend at all.
1. Prologue: Living Alone

Her head hurt. It hurt and her eyes ached and it was _way_ too bloody hot for November. She kicked off her blankets, rolling over and hugging her pillow tight. She lived alone, which was the one and only reason she dared flounder around while she slept in a camisole and little else.

She liked her camisole. In fact, she liked this time's fashion. It was pretty, functional, and comfortable at the same time. She liked jeans, too, and would wear them for as long as she could without appearing odd. That would take several centuries, so- Jeans, away!

Brown hair was pulled as she rolled back onto her back, and she winced, opening her eyes and freeing the locks from under her. She surveyed the room. Nothing was out of place. Except for the sun streaming in through the window.

…Wait, that was in place as well. She had no reason to hate the sun for rising in the east: Where her room faced. What was _out of place_ was the reason she actually knew the sun was up. She had closed the curtains last night. Now they were open. She was out of her bed in a flash, pulling on the nearest pair of jeans from the ones strewn across her floor, grabbing one of the few weapons she could keep on her person without getting tossed in a containment cell: A pocketknife.

Her head ached and her vision nearly blacked out as she stood, making her wonder why she was so tired: Oh, right. Last night she hadn't been able to sleep, which had left her sitting in the windowsill, staring at the moon. She _had_ closed the curtains, but that did not mean she didn't open them again to stare blankly at the glass. The woman tossed the pocketknife back onto her nightstand.

Barefoot, she padded down the hall to the spiraling staircase, and descended sideways. On her way down she passed several paintings of various people: Her sister, a few of her friends, and a single odd painting of a flaming tree. She had painted all of them herself, because at the time she did not own a camera, and even then…

She twirled past a few more paintings: A painting of her entire family, a ripple on a lake, a single red leaf, and a bunch of her kitchen knives spilt on the ground. The room blurred around her, and she giggled like a child before brushing the wall next to a drawing of a rose in full bloom. She stared at it for a moment, watching the reds and browns she had used to draw it settle. After that, she stared at it for a few more seconds, noting a few small errors, before whispering, "Wow, I'm _really_ bored."

In the kitchen she searched the cupboards for something tasty. Multi-colored rings caught her attention. The green box they were in caught her attention because she had neglected to go shopping and thus they were the only things left. Fruit Loops it was.

Spinning across the kitchen, the hardwood floor and red carpets near the grey marble counter-tops, she slammed the green box down on the stone and reached up, for the cupboard. Two fingers latched under the brown-black metallic handle, and the small door opened with no sound. A stack of white bowls, white plates, and clear glass cups awaited her. Spinning on the spot, she smiled towards her imaginary audience and nearly began mouthing the words to a play she was in long ago- long ago when she was an actor in London. The title of the play had slipped away, but she still remembered her role- the happy and rather ditzy innkeeper, who made sure that all her customers were happy. A minor role, but one that left quite her impression on her.

"That's me: Echo Fated, a background character that makes sure that nothing bad happens to the main ones." The smile fell off her face, and the minor lines that disappeared when she smiled and laughed returned. She estimated her human age was a little more then 25, but she had been alive for so long that she was still surprised sometimes that she had so much time left. So long… Her heart felt heavy in her chest, and the lines deepened.

The cereal clinked as it hit the plain white ceramic of her bowl, then crackled slightly as the equally white milk ate away at the red and orange and green and purple, such bright colors-

The fruit loops were not the only thing that crackled. She turned suddenly, one hand going for the knife block while the other pushed her away from the counter and the only window near enough to be of use to an attacker. In the middle of the room, she quickly backed into a wall, holding a plain cutting knife at her side. Her heavy heart suddenly beat much faster and her breathing automatically became shallow as she watched the window, waiting for the thing out there to move again. When it did not, she sighed.

"Echo, you're _such_ a paranoid _freak_…" She kept the knife by her side, though, as she ate her tasty and way-too-bright breakfast. Her eyes tracked the shadows that moved when the leaves did, searching for any shapes that were out of place, before realizing that she was being completely ridiculous.

If someone were to attack, they would have done it by now. They would have noticed from her little display with the knife earlier that she knew they were there, and if she knew they were there and they knew that she knew, they would not allow her to prepare herself: They would attack immediately, having lost the element of surprise. Any time spent afterwards was simply time for her to prepare herself. She left the knife in the kitchen when she left, as well as the bowl, now empty. The silver spoon leaning against the rim cast a shadow almost parallel to the shadow of the figure outside that straightened up, and followed her from window to window.

It disappeared again as she picked up an easel from the ground, set it up, and picked up a brush. She had an idea, and intended to use it to eat this week.

It was several hours later when the person came to the door, and by then she had tied back her hair into a lazy half-bun with a hair-tie she kept on her wrist, before turning on her music system.

It began with the loud slam of a car door outside: The neighbors were so careless… Echo tutted mentally as she added a few details to the easel in front of her. Hmm… That color didn't seem right… Echo painted it over with the original backdrop's tan.

When the doorbell rang, she blinked and looked around for a second. That car door slam… Right. Neighbors, huh? She didn't think so now, unless it was the neighbor's kids wanting to play with her again. Echo sighed, as she set down her brush on the edge of a metal pan she used to mix paints in, careful to make sure it wouldn't fall and hit the floor. She couldn't refuse the kids, but that also meant she would not be able to paint any more today.

Despite her wariness with the brush she set down, she didn't seem to care as her paint-covered hands left marks on the doorknobs she passed. (Namely, browns and blacks, with a little streak of grey here and there.) She prepared herself for salesmen as she walked down the wooden hall to the door, pausing by a mirror to check her appearance. There was a smear of paint on a cheek… Oh well. Nobody would care. (Anyone that she _wanted_ to care, anyways.)

She smiled as she opened the door. "Hello," she started, before she noticed who it was. Her smile dropped from her lips to be replaced by apathy. Abandoning the door, she walked back inside the house, leaving the portal ajar. How could HE be here?! She barely noticed his company, instead making her way back through her house to the living room. When she looked over her shoulder, he was following her.

He had helped himself inside. Typical smug bastard.

--

Valkyrie Cain was sitting at the desk in her room, staring vacantly at the homework she was supposed to be doing while wondering vaguely why she had homework on a Saturday. It was a sunny day, several years ago she would have been outside, playing on the beach and hating that the water got grey and choppy this time of year. That was when she was four.

Now she was fourteen, and God forbid she ever have any fun… Between magical lessons and regular old lessons, her teachers kept her very busy. Not that she was complaining about magical lessons: Those were very fun, and she had never learned any thing quite like it during regular school. Then again, in regular school if she started lighting her hand on fire everyone would consider her a witch, and send her off to a loony bin. That… Was a fate much worse then homework.

A knock on her window drew her attention away from her personal horrors. Crouching on the outside of the panes was a man who _deserved_ a straightjacket. If, of course, a skeleton could be considered a man… She waved her hand, and a breeze caught the latch that held the window closed. Valkyrie had not needed one before she met Skulduggery Pleasant.

"You didn't have that latch last week." So, he noticed. "Is that a challenge? I am sure, that with my endless wit and grace-"

"I have that latch so certain stalker skeletons don't sneak into my room in the middle of the night."

"Do you think that a flimsy piece of plastic will stop me?"

"If you break it, **I'll** be able to stop you. That 'flimsy piece of plastic' got me a week taking out trash so my mother would pay for it."

"Hmm, interesting. Anyway, want to do something fun today?"

"Do I get to beat you up?" Valkyrie asked, hopefully.

"…No. That's impossible. You could never beat-"

"Sure, I'll go." She stopped him before he started.

Skulduggery looked put-off at being cut short. "…Fine." His head fell towards the floor.

Valkyrie blinked at the unexpected depression. "…That's it?"

The skeleton, wrapped up in his garish disguise of orange wig, hat, huge sunglasses, and scarf covering the rest, seemed to look back at her. He had no eyes, so it was impossible to tell if he was really looking at her. "You were expecting more? Children these days…" Again, he was looking at the carpet, though this time as if in exasperation, shaking his skull as he did so. "Expecting more then my usual-"

"-Arrogant and egotistical rambling." The young woman knew this game. He could go on for precious minutes if she did not stop him. She had known him for a year now, and during that time he had gone from just comments on his own greatness into comical and ridiculous speeches. As far as she knew, he only did this for her: China never mentioned it, and Tanith wasn't around often enough to tell about it.

Again, there was a few moments of silence. This time, though, instead of looking at the floor, he was staring straight at her and seemed to be either amazed or shocked. Valkyrie figured he was a bit of both.

"Can we go now?" She asked, stretching her hands above her head as she stood.

"You want to leave your parents a note?"

"Why? I'll just use the reflection." Valkyrie opened her closet door and poked the surface: A second later, a person that could have been her exact twin stepped out and looked at her blankly.

Skulduggery seemed a bit hesitant, but let it slide. "Yes, okay, that'll work."

When she turned around again, he wasn't sitting on her windowsill again. Two seconds later, the Bentley drove around the corner and the driver, Skulduggery, honked impatiently.

It was a bit unnerving to be stared at by… well, herself, so Valkyrie merely nodded to her before jumping out the second story window, using air to cushion her fall. She was very good at it by now, and she was partly sure that if she ever had the misfortune to fall off a 70 story building that she might be able to get out of it alive. Unharmed, however…

The sun beat down on her shoulders, evoking a faint smile from her. She had gotten out of homework on a good day, which meant that there might be a fight involved with whatever business Skulduggery had planned… A fight on a sunny day and no worrying about school...

Best. Day. Ever.

The reflection watched from the open window as her mistress and her mistress's teacher drove off in her mistress's teacher's car. Her mistress's homework lay on the desk, yet the mistress gave no specific instructions… But her mistress may notice if she came back home and it was not done.

A pity. It might have been a good day to test her boundaries. She already knew that she could hide a few minutes' worth of activity from her mistress and her mistress would not notice it, but it was hard to do so. Maybe she could come up with an alternate way to hide events…?

She sat down and stared at the blank page. Math. This would be easy.

The house they pulled up in front of was vaguely generic, with ivy hanging from trellises under the porch that seemed to extend almost all the way around the four sides of the dwelling. The dwelling itself was light blue, with dark wooden steps leading up to a dark wooden door. The frames around the windows were also a dark wood, as well as the porch and the numerous wind chimes hanging around it. The entire color scheme was very well planned out, giving the place a rather homey and cheerful feel.

Skulduggery got out of the car quietly, and Valkyrie followed his example with a slight adjustment: She slammed the door rather loudly. The skeleton seemed to twitch slightly, as though it annoyed him for her to be so callous. Jeez, could he care _more_ about the car?

"So, why are we here again?" She asked.

"Visiting an old friend," he replied carelessly. She stopped, staring at his back. He continued walking up the concrete path to the house. The grey cut between the yellow-green on the lawn, leading to the steps of the porch.

"…If this is a social call, why did you bring me?"

"I thought it would be good for you to meet someone who is as close to a citizen as a magic-user can get. You know, educational." He didn't stop to wait for her, so she ran a few steps to catch up.

"How would meeting a regular magic user be educational?"

"Because this particular magic user happens to be one of the two people involved in founding the Cleavers."

Valkyrie blinked and her steps threatened to falter again. ''…So he would be an adept?"

"Yes, _she_'s an adept." The slight emphasis on 'she' didn't go unnoticed by the teen, and she winced.

"Sorry, she. If she founded the Cleavers, why is she… here?"

"You mean out in the middle of Suburbia?" He asked, stopping in front of the door and seeming to consider.

Valkyrie nodded, knowing that if he were reading the air he would be able to pick up the movement.

"I have no idea." The doorbell was the regular 'ding-dong' of nearly every house on the block, yet the person inside used magic… And helped found the Cleavers.

It sunk in to Valkyrie then. The Cleavers… the faceless, emotionless guards of the Sanctuary's of the world, each one stronger then a normal man (or even an abnormal man). They moved incredibly fast, and in perfect teamwork, and the person inside helped create them?

It was almost half a minute before the door opened, to reveal a brown-haired woman with some grey paint smudged beneath her right eye, who was barely taller then Valkyrie.

Valkyrie concluded when the woman nearly greeted them, then turned and walked back inside looking like she had swallowed something sour that Skulduggery had been pulling her leg.

Skulduggery, however, followed the woman inside without any preamble. Valkyrie decided once again to follow his example, noting that the décor on the inside of the house was probably designed by the same person as the outside: The walls were cream, with a light brown floor. The stairs matched the floor, and the floor matched the paintings on the walls.

One of the paintings seemed to catch the skeleton's attention: It seemed to be a family portrait. One of the women was clearly the woman who had answered the door, looking cheerful in a white dress-like thing and with her hair hanging around her face instead of being pulled back. Next to her was a blond woman who seemed blazingly happy, hanging onto the arm of a man with black hair. The area around the man was darkened, and he was frowning at the painter. His eyes were red, and the more the teen stared at him the angrier he seemed to look, as if he was blaming her for making him sit there next to the blond lady clutching him. Valkyrie giggled: The painter had a sense of humor, then.

Next to him was nobody: They were the last people on the right in the front row. Valkyrie did not know any of the people in the painting, she realized, then also realized that Skulduggery had left her behind.

"That was a cheerful painting in the hall, back there." He noted when he found Echo painting again, standing in the middle of the room. Some sort of modern music was playing, and he winced inwardly.

"Which one? The one of the burning tree?"

"No, the one of the clan."

"Oh, yes, that one." She continued painting serenely.

A second or two later, Valkyrie trotted into the room, making Echo turn around in surprise.

Echo looked her up and down once; taking in her regular clothes, tennis shoes, and band t-shirt for a band Valkyrie didn't even listen to anymore. Valkyrie felt a little self-conscious under the woman's penetrating gaze, and when the lady raised an eyebrow at her she figured that her original shock at this person being the creator of the Cleavers was sorely mistaken.

The eyebrow was transferred to Skulduggery. "Who is this?" She had a faint accent of… Valkyrie couldn't place it, but it wasn't Irish, Scottish, British, French, American, or anything else… Or maybe it was a mix of all of them. It was a pleasant purr, nice to listen to.

It was odd how much it reminded her of Skulduggery's way of speaking: When he was being at-least mildly serious, it was much like this.

"This is Valkyrie Cain, my student."

"Student? You're taking on pupils?"

"Hardly."

Though the woman said nothing, she was not silent: Her face spoke of disbelief, as well as her crossed arm and the way she shifted her weight to her back leg and tilted her head slightly.

"Valkyrie is an exception."

"Is that so? Then you must be quite the young lady, Valkyrie. I am Echo Fated, pleased to meet you."

Valkyrie blinked at the suddenness of the conversation being directed back at her. "…I'm pleased to meet you too…?"

Echo laughed, more of a giggle then a laugh really, but at a joke that Valkyrie didn't get. With a sinking feeling, she realized that this person was just like Skulduggery- only she was a girl.

"Skulduggery told you that I was someone grand and important, didn't he?"

"I didn't tell her anything that wasn't true!" Skulduggery protested.

"You told her things that _affect _what she thinks of me. If I told her that you are the Skeleton detective, you wouldn't object because that is true and applies to the present. If I told her that you were one of the generals at the battle of Victoria's cliff, if she even knows what that means, you would protest because that would affect how she thinks of you."

"…Battle of Victoria's cliff?" Valkyrie asked, feeling lost.

Echo, who had been looking at her since her greeting, seemed to refocus on her. "Or it _couldn't_ affect her judgment of you, because if you're a teacher then you're a poor one." She turned to look at the skeleton again. "Long story short, stop telling people about me if you're planning on them meeting me."

Skulduggery tilted his head to the side as she began to clean up her painting materials, picking up a bunch of used brushes and dumping them into a metal pan. When Echo passed her, Valkyrie noticed that the bottom of the pan was covered in different colors of paint.

It was odd, the way that Echo expected them to follow her into the kitchen without any orders, and even odder the way that they followed her anyway. Even Skulduggery, who nearly had all sorts of things to say, was silent. Valkyrie realized that this was one of the few times he did not monopolize any sort of conversation they had.

Something was going on between the two of them, and Valkyrie had always liked a challenge.


	2. Chapter 2

Echo looked over the younger girl again as she washed off her brushes and palette in the kitchen sink, making sure that all the paint that didn't go down the drain on it's own was scrubbed down: This stuff stained, and she didn't fancy paint marks in her sink. She would have to scrub the floor in the living room anyways… or not, because it might actually look nice. She'd have to see. Echo returned to her observation after making her decision.

The girl- Valkyrie- had dark hair and dark eyes, and looked like she was ready to go the mall with her friends. However, the way she watched Echo, and occasionally looked at Skulduggery, but mostly looked at Echo as if calculating something… Well, calculating might be putting it too highly: the girl looked completely confused. Echo wasn't surprised at all, and looked over at her old friend.

Skulduggery had finally taken it upon himself to remove his disguise, and was currently folding his scarf and placing it in one of his pockets. She had missed the sight of his pale skull: she had to admit, but disguised her smile as a cocky smirk. "So, what took you so long?"

"Hmm?" Skulduggery took extra time in carefully sliding the over-large over-dark sunglasses into yet another concealment in his clothing. Skulduggery understood the question, but was stalling. That was a bad sign. A little red flag went up in the back of her mind and she turned to face her friend.

"To find me. What took you so long to find me?" There was a pause, and the density of the air around them seemed to increase exponentially. "_Please_ tell me you got lost." She said teasingly, tried to lighten the mood. She knew why he wasn't talking. Valkyrie was here. And Valkyrie didn't know.

He paused, before saying slowly, "You know, most people don't wish their friends got lost." Okay, she had succeeded in lightened the mood. But he wasn't answering.

"I know."

There was a moment of silence that Echo used to grab a towel and dry the pan haphazardly. "I'm not most people," she explained once she was done. "So why did it take you so long to find me?" She repeated, but with just enough steel in her voice to let him know she would not take 'I'll tell you later' for an answer.

Skulduggery seemed to think for a moment and then said, "I was busy."

Echo picked up on the ever-so-slight hesitation in his voice, concluded that he was hiding something from her, and decided to play a one-sided game of "Hot and cold." He would tell her when she was close to her target, or when she was not. She could read him well enough, she was confident in that.

Now, what would he try to hide from her?

No, not what. Why.

Why… Because it would mean she would be injured? …No. He would be even more likely to tell her then. She pretended to inspect her work as she pondered. No doubt it was fooling no one: Valkyrie was rocking forwards and backwards impatiently just out her line of sight.

Because he was afraid of what she might say? That… was probably it. And if that were it, then he would be afraid of what she might say because she might react badly… Echo looked at herself from his point of view, and figured it out while she set the pan to dry on the window, with her brushes inside of it. Valkyrie stopped moving, and Echo suddenly realized what it was that he was trying to hide, or soften.

Her eyes flicked to Valkyrie for an instant, who was watching the two of them suspiciously, and then back to Skulduggery.

His shoulders tensed.

Bingo.

"Busy with your student? Wow, that's lame." She intoned it as if she was teasing, to set him at ease. I'm not mad, Skulduggery, you can relax.

Skulduggery seemed to pick up on the note of 'You paranoid idiot' in her voice, or her body language, or something, and relaxed slightly. "Lame? Valkyrie is not lame!"

Valkyrie looked at him as if he was on drugs. "Are you on drugs?" she demanded.

"…Except for when she says things like that. Valkyrie, I don't think it's even possible for me to take drugs."

Echo snorted at his answer as though she did not believe him, even as she agreed with him. "You don't _think_ it's possible?"

"I never tried," he said loftily. "What, have you?"

Echo's eyes widened, almost of their own accord, and then she turned her head away as if blushing. Oh, the glories of the theatre.

Skulduggery stood straight up- did he believe it? She would have given him her 'Skulduggery you are an idiot' stare, but that would have ruined the act.

Valkyrie stared. "Miss Fated-"

"Echo, please."

"-You take drugs?"

"No… Yes… it was only once!" Echo looked at Valkyrie again, eyes wide, and the lack of a blush on her face must have given her away because Skulduggery seemed to pick up on the fact that she was putting on a show.

"It only takes once to get addicted, you know," he drawled, leaning against the counter. Echo heard the slight tremble in his voice as he struggled not to laugh.

Valkyrie had picked up on it as well, and her head snapped to look at him so fast Echo almost got whiplash just by watching. Valkyrie looked at Echo, then back, then at Echo again.

"…Well, this is good news. Skulduggery found a friend that is just as crazy as he is." Her tone was condescending and sarcastic, the same way Penelope's would get when someone was lying in front of her.

Echo's lips trembled, and then she laughed girlishly, leaning against the counter in a way that was scarily similar to the way Skulduggery leaned. She loved acting. God, she loved it.

"Yes, I may be crazy, but I'm also very good at playing pretend!" She smirked.

Skulduggery snickered, and Valkyrie stared. "You… You're laughing?"

He stopped abruptly. "No I'm not. I never laugh."

It was Echo's turn to snicker. "Liar," she accused.

Valkyrie stopped everything and seemed to be thinking hard. Echo could almost hear the gears turning behind her eyes, and had an inkling of why Skulduggery had agreed to teach her. Finally, the young student queried, to confirm whatever thoughts she had. "Can I ask you something?"

"You just did," Echo commented, unable to resist being a smart-ass. "You can ask something else, though."

"How long have you and Skulduggery known each-other?"

Echo looked at Valkyrie curiously. "You know, you're the first person your age I've ever met, with no previous knowledge of my existence, to come to that conclusion so quickly. But, then again, I was hardly careful to hide it."

Valkyrie blinked, and blinked again. "You didn't answer my question."

"It would be rather hard to do so… or do you want a rough estimate?" Echo asked, teasing.

The brunette turned around, seeming to look out the window, but leaned back far enough that she could see Skulduggery without tilting her head his way.

His arms were crossed, and he was watching them silently. His way of saying it was up to her.

"A pretty long time, Valkyrie." She murmured, watching the neighbor's kids play in their driveway across the street. "A pretty long time."

* * *

The strange woman puzzled Valkyrie. Echo seemed to forget she was there at times, even when looking directly at her- or through her, as it were. Her eyes went from focused and direct to dreamy and elusive in an instant, and her smiles ranged from sarcastic to quietly sad.

But most of all, even when Echo forgot Valkyrie was there, the most troubling thing was that Skulduggery had _not_ forgotten. Valkyrie had a feeling that if she had not been there, the whole day would have gone much smoother for both adults. It was just this unmistakable air of awkwardness, especially during that one part…

"Hey, Skulduggery?"

"Hmm?" Skulduggery asked, not bothering to use real words.

"What did Echo mean when she asked you why it took so long for you to 'find' her?"

Skulduggery was silent.

"Hey, Skulduggery?"

"I heard you. It's impossible not to."

"…And?"

Skulduggery sighed, pulling up next to Valkyrie's house- it was surprisingly close by, barely a mile's walk… He turned off the engine, and when she didn't move he sighed again. "It's a long story."

"My reflection can wait."

"…Alright. I guess I'll start with the fact that even though it's nearly impossible for me to be as old as I look, I'm pretty old. Echo is as well. Just getting that out of the way. You know, in case you hadn't figured it out-"

"Get with the story."

"…A couple years back, I came back from the dead, and Echo and I got into a couple of fights. Nothing seriously, just… I think she was jealous of me." (_Bullshit_.)

He paused. Valkyrie leaned forward, and then wiggled side to side impatiently. "Go on."

"Oh, right. Sorry. Anyway, eventually she left the army-"

"Army?"

"Yes, army. She left the _army_-" Valkyrie got a sense that he was mocking her by the lilt in his voice, "-and set up shop somewhere in London. When I found her, she told me I was being stupid and left again. Imagine, calling me stupid…" He trailed off.

"…That's it?"

"Oh, no. I had a realization unlike any other and we became friends again, but that's not interesting."

Valkyrie was about to sigh and leave the car, to go try and pick the truths from his overly skimpy tale, when she realized he didn't answer her question. "…And why did she say that it took you a long time to find her?"

"The habit stuck with her- plus, she has to move around a lot, because she ages very slowly. The crazy woman's been moving around for the better part of six centuries, and every time I find her-" He looked at her strangely, or seemed to, and nodded towards her house. Valkyrie sighed- his next words would tell her to leave. "You should go inside, before I'm forced to drive off with you because your parents call the cops."

Valkyrie took the hint, and closed the car door behind her gently. Next time she saw China, she was asking about that.

…Wait, did he say that Echo had been moving around for six _centuries_?!

* * *

A/N: So, what did you think? Much better then the OLD chapter 2, ne? Chapter three coming soon, right after I finish it and make sure I get started on chapter four...

OH, and, random question.

Should I change my name to 'And The Plot Thickens...'? Because that's a really bad-ass name. I want it.


	3. Chapter 3

RIPPLING POOL: CHAPTER THREE

His home was not all that big, but then again, he did not require much space. The only distinguishing features from most other apartments were these:

A: No T.V., no computer, and no personal objects lying around. If you checked the closet, there were two other things inside: A spare suit and a nearly empty suitcase lying on the floor. If you checked the suitcase you would find an old-fashioned gun, ammo for said weapon, two odd black tubes with rings on the end, and a piece of paper that was folded in half. The piece of paper would be written in what looked like Latin… But it couldn't be Latin. Surely not.

B: The kitchen was empty, no food in the fridge or on the shelves. The dining room table was covered in papers, with no evidence as to sitting place for eating. The bed was not slept in, ever. If you looked closely, it appeared as if someone had been lying _on_ the covers, not _in_ them.

C: The bookshelf was full of books, and only five were in English. One of which happened to be an Edgley book, The Vanishing Night. The others were in Spanish, German, and what appeared at first glance to be Greek- but that wasn't possible, since no one spoke it anymore, right?

D: A skeleton was in residence.

Skulduggery Pleasant was standing, back to the paper-covered table, staring out of the window. Fifth story, overlooking a quiet street in the part of town that nobody looked up in, and if anyone saw him they would know who he was. After all, China's library was just down the street.

His jacket was thrown over a chair, his hat and scarf hanging from a hook in the wall. Deep shadows cast by the setting sun twisted their images into things almost out of a painting.

…He had never really appreciated art (unless it was of him). Death has a way of re-prioritizing your interests.

Skulduggery sighed. _'Maybe I shouldn't have brought Valkyrie today. Echo looked… uncomfortable. And analytical_.' He knew from experience that an uncomfortable and analytical Echo drew bad conclusions that almost always ended up being true.

Like, for instance, the day she figured out that Alison was pregnant. She had looked uncomfortable and analytical the day Alison said she didn't really want to hire a nursemaid, and what happened?

Echo had practically raised the kid. Sadly, it ended up being exactly what Alison wanted.

_'And me, too. I didn't want an infant bawling all over when I was only 40 either._'

Skulduggery's lips would have twisted into a half-grin while he turned towards the door. He couldn't _wait_ to hear what Echo thought about his snarky teenage assistant.

The car left, driving by her house and down the street, out of her vision, out of her-

No, not out of her life. She knew Skulduggery well enough to know that he would be back within a week, maybe even tomorrow. That didn't bother her.

But what bothered her was so great that a gnat hovered inches from her head, but she ignored it. Breathing slightly hard, the only outward sign of her adrenaline rush, she stared out of the window and tried to force her thoughts into a shape that made sense. It hurt, and the pain infuriated her, because it would not go away. She knew better then to drown it in liquor (she had done that once, and the results had been… bad.), and sleeping pills made her head ache when she woke up.

So, she sat in a comfortable chair by the window, enjoying the chill from the glass in the hot day, and thought.

For thirty minutes she thought, and only came up with this equation:

Skulduggery.

Plus student.

Equals…?

She couldn't make sense of it! Her face looked blank, pale, and slightly stoned; and for once it reflected what was inside: She did not know where to begin! Her experience when it came to Skulduggery and children was almost nil, and it had been a very long time since Penelope…

A blank came over her again, and she noticed half-heartedly that the gnat had landed an inch from her arm where it rested on the windowsill. She knew that Penelope was important now, and waited for her subconscious to throw her a bone- it must have affected her too, whatever it was, if she had her thoughts driven continuously over the past half-hour towards her dead niece.

Niece.

Niece, as in Skulduggery's and Alison's daughter.

Echo felt like an idiot, above all the other emotions that suddenly choked her. Penelope, of course! Valkyrie was almost exactly like her dead kin in personality.

New trains of thought opened up, hundreds at a time, each splitting off in all kinds of new directions, turning the dull ache from before into a sudden and splitting migraine. Her head thunked down on her arm, and the gnat took off, buffered by the sudden wind.

"Owwww…" She muttered, displeased by the rush of feelings that crippled her brain. She was reminded of the past times Skulduggery had caught up to her, and the fact that this happened almost _every_ time. Echo sighed, acknowledging the fact that her life revolved completely and totally around Skulduggery. After all, he was the only person she had ever loved as anything other then kin.

Now, if she could make it so that it didn't mess with her mind whenever he met someone knew, she would be getting somewhere.

Silently cursing the Skeleton for ruining her day (and probably her week, based on past experiences), she descended into herself.

Surrounded by her feelings, she whispered a single question out-loud, surrounded by the dull ache of her headache and the knowledge that her brain would feel as if it was swelling outside her brain for several more hours before she sorted herself out. "What do I _feel_?"

The first thought was jealousy. Her time with him, as little as it was, now had to be divided between herself and Skulduggery. Bad, bad Echo! She had no right to be jealous of the girl that reminded him- and her, now that she thought of it- of Penelope.

The second stirring was dread, and she dealt with that the same way- Skulduggery had remained the same way for far too long, growing used to patterns. A new source in his life was a good thing, and even if it made it harder for her to talk to him again, it was worth the pain. It was worth it, all of it.

Batting off all the new complications to her life, she dropped deeper into herself.

When she opened her eyes, the window outside was dark, and her back ached from sleeping seated in a chair by the window, bent over at the waist. She was still leaning against it, and winced when she tried to move. Her arm was stinging, which was what she got for falling asleep absolving herself.

It was an odd practice, but it was necessary for her: If she held onto all her negative emotions that had built up over the years, she would have gone insane on everyone long ago. It had gotten to the point where she was half-convinced she was OCD: It became almost painful to go for too long without reassuring herself and removing any questions from her mind, banishing bad thoughts, and making herself into as close of a perfect person she could get to.

She knew she was far from perfect, but… Somehow, she knew that it was her perfection that made her… her! After so many years, anything less was a slight. She knew she could only depend on others for so much, and that they depended on her to lift impossible weights and see right through obstacles that had other people stumped.

It was her mask: The way she smiled and listened to people that earned their respect, the way she knew what to do from her endless years of experience that got their trust, the way she got mad at _opportune_ moments that got everyone else to dance to her tune. She was too well practiced to let anything slip; so many people took her perfection at face value. In an odd way, everything she did was calculated for effect. Most people did not even notice she was manipulating them if she wore her 'I'm but an innocent girly-girl!' face to deal with them.

She sighed, the 'light-and-free' feeling she usually got from carrying out her ritual fading away with the sullen thoughts. It did not bring her joy to know that Helen's face could launch 1,000 ships, but her voice could convince them not to leave. Stupid men.

It was an odd feeling, knowing that very few knew that she wore masks, and that even fewer had seen beneath them- and all of them were dead. She didn't doubt that the one person that had seen her without them even remembered Echo-without-masks. Skulduggery was that kinds of person- forget all the things that don't matter, because his mind only has so much space. That's why some people kept diaries.

…Echo didn't doubt that it was against a few laws for her to keep a diary.

She stood, wincing, stretching backwards and flexing her hand to get the blood flowing again. She felt like Pins and Needles were stuck in her arms-

Damn. Now the song was stuck in her head. Billy Talent wrote the song in 2006, she remembered, and the album had wound up finding it's way to her door. The return address was from Germany.

…Germany. Why Germany? Hummed the song under her breath while she made her way to the kitchen. She rubbed her eyes to clear the sleep from them and froze as she heard a sound downstairs.

Her breathing all but stopped, eyes automatically closing. Something had been knocked over, and muttered curses made their merry way up the steps. She descended three steps, and then sighed, shaking her head.

Skulduggery muttered obscene things under his 'breath' as he righted the easel- that had been left in the middle of the room. It wasn't his fault for backing into it; after all, it was four feet tall, three feet wide (with canvas), and made no sound. It was Echo's fault, surely, for leaving it in the middle of the room!

"You know, usually people knock before entering someone's home." Echo's hair was flat on one side, and she was flexing her right hand as if it hurt.

"…Technically, I'm not a person," was the first thing he could come up with to counter her.

"You speak, so you're a person."

"These days, computers talk too." Believing he won, he turned back to the easel. It had nothing much on it yet, just what looked like the outline of a yellow house. Yellow. Really, some people had no taste…

Echo took a moment to answer. "So that makes computers people, too."

Skulduggery made the skeleton equivalent of opening his mouth and beginning to reply, before noticing the smirk on her lips. She thought she had a comeback for whatever he said next. Knowing the short brunette as he did, he decided (rather wisely) to not dispute her point.

(_If he had, he would have gotten 'If it can hold a conversation, its a person, because it can respond actively,' and if he had said something along the lines of 'that's just a programmed response,' she would have said that most people don't even think before they talk so __you__ should stop doing so_.)

"Interesting house you've got here." Usually she preferred much smaller houses, some barely big enough for a bed to be laid out. It made him claustrophobic, but Echo insisted that it was 'cozy.'

Cozy, hah. Bottom floor, three meters wide, and surrounded on all sides is cozy? If you're attacked there, you're screwed, lady.

"It's too big," Echo replied, obviously thinking the opposite of him. "Some of the rooms are empty."

"…So rent them out."

"Do _you_ want three other people living in your personal quarters, prying into everything you do and wondering where you came from?" She asked him seriously.

…He didn't. Echo was always a conversation ender: Most anything she said could not be made fun of or disputed without making him look like an idiot- and he wasn't.

"I thought not. It's probably in some contract somewhere with my name on it that I can't ever live with more then two people ever."

"You said 'ever' twice." …_Most_ of what she said could not be made fun of.

"…I know."

He looked from the painting- where he had been looking without seeing for a good thirty seconds- and over at her. She had somehow un-flattened her hair and her arms were crossed over her chest.

She was waiting for his response, and he was curious. So he responded with "…So why did you do it?"

"Haven't you ever heard of dramatic effect?" She asked, grinning and walking away.

Skulduggery looked after her for five seconds, then decided that whatever she was doing had to be more interesting then just waiting for her to do it.

He found her in the kitchen, holding an upside-down plastic bag and looking rather bemused. "What's so interesting?" He asked, grinning inwardly at the expression on her face.

She looked at him, and the overly dramatic anguish on her face made him snort reflexively. "I have no more food! Whatever shall I do!?"

Echo frowned at the crinkling bag, her lips twisting into a half-smile when she remembered that she had spent the entire day yesterday thinking about running out of food and then Skulduggery arrives- and no more food.

"What's so interesting?" The Devil spoke, and by the tilt of his skull and the set of his shoulders, she decided he was laughing at her.

…Why not give him even more of a reason to laugh? She almost let out a small sob and set her face to the 'panicked' mode. "I have no more food! Whatever shall I do!?"

"…Buy some more?" He suggested dryly. Of _course_ he would have no clue of what to do, he hadn't _eaten_ since the _dawn of freaking time_…

She looked out the window before she looked at the time on the microwave as a reflex. It was dark outside.

She turned her gaze to the clock. It was 7:30.

"I'm not sure that the grocery worker drones will be willing to provide me with sustenance this long after the sun has set." She murmured in a low, fast voice, her expression vacant. Inwardly she giggled at the absurdity of her statement and took a note: It MUST find its way into her work somehow.

Skulduggery had taken a few steps forward to hear the end. "…Hm. That's a problem."

Inwardly, Echo sighed, upset that she couldn't make him look like an idiot. It was an odd compulsion, but it didn't stop her from laughing at him every time he slipped up.

…Besides, he did the same to her and everyone else. _The medicine: Everyone must get a taste of it. _

"It is."

They fell into a companionable silence, Echo gazing out the window, the vacant expression still glued to her face, Skulduggery looking no-where in particular but doing so very-

Echo caught her thoughts and threw them into a burning guillotine, watching in glee as the huge blade chopped them to bits, then lit a match and burned the entire thing down. While she thought such violent things, her face didn't change, but a small smile came to her lips.

Skulduggery wondered what she was thinking about and decided it was probably something amusing that she wouldn't share with him.

…Echo thought some pretty weird things, though.

Skulduggery paused, half-remembering something, and straightened as it came to him. "So, what do you think of Valkyrie?"

Echo blinked twice, and her head tilted to the left. "In what way?"

"…In any way." He knew what she meant, but didn't want to hear her thoughts on any one subject.

"She's naïve, but sharp. She doesn't take things at face value… Um, wait, no." She frowned and tapped her chin as she tried to put her thoughts into words. "…She tries to see the deeper things behind actions, but not behind people. For example: She knew that something was there between us, but was shocked when she found out that someone like me was the Captain Cleaver."

He nodded, and added it to his mental notes of 'how to manipulate your stupid student.'

"She's witty and speaks her mind perhaps a bit too much, and beyond that I'm not sure because I only spoke to her for about thirty minutes."

Skulduggery was a bit surprised. "That's it? Usually you can figure out much more-"

"When I'm actually focusing, and when it's a person who's been alive a bit longer and done a bit more then her. Children speak their minds anyways, so the thing about not knowing when to shut up may mean that her childhood was happy enough for her to bring it with her into her teenage years, but other then that…" She sighed.

Skulduggery was a bit surprised, but it made sense. It always did. They did not really need to communicate with words some of the time, as thought time itself had thrown them together enough that something stuck.

Echo smiled slightly. "She also reminds me of Penelope. If I could find it in myself to believe in a religion, right now it would be Buddhism."

Skulduggery started, surprised. "Penelope?" He asked, his voice quiet. His little girl, with the black hair and blue eyes and the smirk that Alison matched his and-

Echo laughed. "Yes, Penelope. Stop acting so shell-shocked over a name."

Skulduggery took a moment to drag himself out of the customary shock that accompanied hearing that name, and compared his lovely daughter to Valkyrie.

…Holy crap, she was _right_.

"I'm always right." Echo's grin faltered. "Except for, you know, when I'm not."

"Oh, so you can read minds now?" He asked, a little frustrated. And here he had been thinking that he liked Valkyrie because she was in interesting person…

"Nope, _you_ just can't keep your mouth shut." She smiled at him sadly, as if she knew what he was thinking and was now sorry for mentioning his daughter.

Sanguine snorted. For once, someone could match Skulduggery's sarcastic remarks. And it was a _girl_. Maybe the Skeleton Detective wasn't all he was cracked up to be.


	4. Chapter 4

Sighing, Valkyrie turned in her homework and took her customary place at the back of the classroom.

…Well, it wasn't exactly customary. But the Reflection had chosen that seat and to move from it might cause suspicion, so Stephanie took it all the same. It made sense: Skulduggery had said that the Reflection would automatically avoid human contact when possible… so the desk in the back was what she should have expected.

She hated the school's uniform. The skirt was knee-length, and hideously checkered with yellow, blue, and green. The top was long-sleeved, since they had changed to the 'winter' uniform last week, a bit too early. They entire school was fuming, in more ways then one.

Mrs. Miller smiled cheerfully at the class. "Okay, kids! Today we're going to review the Quadratic Formula!"

…She hated going to school. Hated it. Loathed it with a burning passion…

* * *

Skulduggery cracked the window, as he had done the night before, and slipped inside. He was bored. Valkyrie was at school and he was unemployed, so what else was he going to do?

Hmmm… Echo wasn't at home, unlike yesterday when he found her asleep in a chair. But now that he didn't have to keep quiet, he began his search again, without interference.

Echo was an enigma, an unsolvable question, the figurative Holy Grail to so many people. Skulduggery figured that he might as well put her own saying into use: 'People aren't defined by the objects around them, the objects define the people.' If that saying was thought about long enough, it turned out to be true.

Except for her, of course.

In her room there was nothing interesting except the walls- they had been painted with golds, greens, and browns in a pattern that vaguely suggested a forest. He touched the paint, and then realized that would do no good.

But it had been painted on, and it was relatively new. Interesting.

In the spare rooms it looked like no one had been in there for months, but they had been furnished with beds and desks and little else. When he looked in the closet for one, he found an abandoned child's toy.

Downstairs he saw the paintings and put it together with the paintings above: She was an artist as her chosen profession. He wondered why- she had always been bad at drawing, even as a child.

But as he looked, he saw the subtle nuances that proclaimed them as her work: The curvy lines everywhere, the excessive shading. The only difference was that now it was stylized, instead of the horrible, horrible drawings she used to try to give to people.

She probably had spent ten years learning to draw really, really well, just for the hell of it. What he would have called a waste of time she made into a useful job.

Typical Echo.

* * *

Echo's stomach rumbled loudly, and Yoko laughed. "Well, I know that sound well enough!"

Echo mock-glared at the Asian beauty, who was holding out a box of what looked like rice.

Yellow rice, with pieces of meat and vegetable and… "Is that scrambled eggs? In a colorful bowl filled with colorful things?" It got the raised eyebrow.

Yoko grinned. "Yup! It's fried rice!"

"…Why would you fry rice?" Echo asked, hesitantly taking the bowl and the spoon, never once questioning why her co-worker would carry around extra food. With four adopted children, Yoko knew what happened when they got hungry.

"Because it's tastier that way!" Yoko danced away, off to check on the animation guy. And the guy at the front desk.

And basically anyone who would stop to talk to her.

Echo surveyed Yoko's clothing and silently approved: It was green on green on green: A see-through green semi-jacket-kimono thing over a lighter green tank top over dark green jeans. Her shoes were green crocs.

A touch of envy filled her, because Yoko looked good in every color beside white, which made it seem like her skin was too dark.

Echo immediately smacked that thought away and got back to her computer and her rice, wondering if Yoko could give her a ride to the supermarket today to stock up her kitchen.

Cars had a use for something after all, she mused as she yawned. Her eyes burned at her from under her eyelids, hissing something along the lines of _'Queremos a descansar (1)…_'

The brunette frowned and thought back, 'Yeah, well, blame Skulduggery for not letting you sleep! Jesus, that guy could take all day if I didn't kick him out!'

"Heeeeey, Echoooo~" Her friend had gotten back sooner then expected: Everybody must be busy putting the final touches on the episode airing today.

Echo opened her seething eyes and found herself on chest-level with Yoko, who had mistaken her desk for a chair. Looking up, she saw that Yoko was grinning wickedly.

"Why are you so tired, girl?"

"Because I was talking with a friend last night."

"Ooh, which friend? The one that writes books?" Yoko was all _for_ new people, not to mention that 'friend' and 'last night' set off all sorts of red flags in her mind. The green-clad artist may look innocent...

"No, the one that talks all the time and has no internal clock." Echo dragged her hand across the mouse-pad, selecting an iMovie icon. A colorful picture surrounded by the trademark grey-steel of the Apple computers popped up.

"…Have I met her?" Yoko asked, hopping off the desk and walking around the computer, peering over Echo's shoulder.

"No." Her answer was blunt.

"Why not? I need to meet all your friends, and make sure-"

Echo put down her rice and twisted around to look at her friend. "It's a guy."

Yoko blanked for a moment, and her lips were on autopilot. "What's his name and social security number?"

"No, you're not going to kill him…" Echo sighed dramatically. Mr. and Mrs. Smith was a _very_ good movie.

"But- but!" Yoko stuttered, and finally said in a dramatic whisper, "But I _have_ to meet anyone that manages to make it into your bed!"

Echo's response was delayed a full half-second by shock, before her mind chewed through Yoko's words and came out with only one meaning, but one that she obviously did not like for her next word was, "W-what?" She said it louder then she intended, blushing furiously. Skulduggery… in her bed?

"…Well, what was I _supposed_ to think?" Yoko asked, definitely amused. "So, is he handsome? Ooh, I bet he's smart, to make it past your defenses-" Echo wore a fake wedding ring whenever Yoko dragged her out to do something 'fun,' "-and he has to have a sense of humor to win you over-"

"Hey, Mimi!" Echo called, spying a small child by the door. Yoko's youngest foster-daughter, Mimi, walked over to Echo looking like she was expecting a punishment.

Instead, Echo lifted Mimi and settled her into her lap. Instant protection from any awkward questions, guaranteed. "Want to see what I was working on today?"

Mimi nodded enthusiastically.

Yoko gave her a look that whispered 'This is not over,' and wandered back over to her station.

* * *

(1) 'Queremos a descansar' pretty much means 'We want to sleep…' in Spanish. Echo's multi-lingual, expect random tidbits of that coming out.

* * *

A/N: I love hotels. They're comfy, the beds are soft, this one has free WiFi, and it happened to have a bible.

I'm not particularly religious, so I took a look-see through it. The name 'Cain' popped up. Apparently he killed his brother, Abel, because he was jealous of God's attention.

...I _knew_ there was a reason Valkyrie was an only child!


End file.
